The early morning runs to school drop off can still be a bit dark at the end of March. The other week, as I was standing out in the middle of the street, gesturing to Ellie that it was safe for her to bike across, I realized that I have a super power.
See, unlike Spider-Man, the manifestation of my powers did not occur overnight, but, had to be developed and strengthened through years of training. Like Batman. (Although, admittedly, Batman's training had way fewer kids calling him "Mom" than mine did.)
The day I realized my powers had reached their height we were on the way to school, as I said, in those still dark in the Northwest early morning hours. Ellie was waiting, on the corner not only dressed in a bright red and pink ladybug raincoat, sparkle mermaid leggings, light up shoe laces and a helmet liberally covered in reflective stickers shaped like stars, but, sitting on a bright pink butterfly bike with white tires and lights on the handlebars, lights on the seat post, lights on the front flower basket that flash each time she goes over the tiniest bump, lights on the wheels that change color like the dance floor from Saturday Night Fever! I, on the other hand, was standing in the middle of the street dressed for running in varying hues of black, gesturing to Ellie that it was safe to cross because I had stopped all traffic by, get this, SHOOTING BEAMS OF INDOMITABLE WILL OUT OF MY EYEBALLS!
There was absolutely no reason that I should be even seen by the cars, but I was. Any logical person would send out the most brilliantly dressed well lit person into the crosswalk first. Like a peacock in a coal mine. Instead? I stopped traffic with intimidation and my indomitable will. That's. Right. Just like Batman. (according to wikipedia)
Jon continues to deny my super hero status, flying in the face of all scientific evidence I've presented. And each morning, for like a week, I had to endure his boring lectures about how scientific evidence should be based on the results of statistical analysis and the strength of scientific controls and not made up stories, Martha.
Until I stopped listening.
And then this showed up. Placed neatly on top of all my superhero running outfits:
And all I could imagine was that, if Batman's mom had survived that horrific murder in the back alleys of Gotham City, Bruce Wayne and I would be in the exact same boat:
|"But, MOM, bats are supposed to be stealthy, blending with the night swooping down on-"|
Martha Wayne raises eyebrow.
Beginning of April:
Three things I didn't say
1. He looks like Harry Potter, but driving a Porsche 911 instead of a nimbus 2000.
2. Someone's kicking herself for going off on that tangent about grizzly bears. Been there done that, sister.
3. Well, you know what they say, those who can't, get a teaching degree, have a couple kids and start writing a self deprecating mom blog while watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.
Middle of April:
We were all over at Mabel's house, sitting on her back porch, enjoying a rare rain free late afternoon and talking like adults while the children ran amok inside the house. Unsupervised. (Unless you count Mabel's cat. Good parents probably wouldn't.)
Harold: Does society have a perceived correlation between intelligence and how much a person talks? For instance, if a person seems to babble, are they initially perceived as less intelligent?
Me: (looking up from phone) DUDES! VANILLA ICE STARRED IN A MOVIE*!? How did I not know about this? I mean, I've watched all his home improvement shows, Jon too, voluntarily I might add (Jon makes his "what!?!" face) I shouldn't have to find out about these things from Twitter! I mean, sure, when everyone was bustin' a move to "Ice Ice Baby" and sitting in dark theaters watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles battle Shredder for the last canister of mutant making ooze I was singing along to my "Chipmunks Go Hollywood" tape and memorizing "Boil Them Cabbage Down" so I could perform with the Junior High Fiddling Club but-
Geraldine: Martha. You told this story, like, five years ago.
Me: (looking to Mabel for confirmation) Really?
Me: Oh. Sorry. What were you saying again, Harold?
I found and open package of wasabi peas buried at the bottom of the snack drawer.
They're a bit...chewy.
Probably Jon wouldn't approve of my eating them.
He would probably lecture me about botulism science. Again.
I swear, it's constraints like this that turn potential superheros into super villains.
*Videos. Because they needed to be shared.
For the Vanilla Ice purist.
For the people who would rather mock Vanilla Ice.
For the people who think Ice Ice Baby would sound better sung by a penguin.